


East Or West (Over Earth Or By Ocean)

by Lothiriel84



Series: Who Will Find Me [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, One Shot, Post-Episode: s04e03 The Final Problem, Sibling Bonding, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-19 00:50:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9410294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lothiriel84/pseuds/Lothiriel84
Summary: Now there's no point in placing the blameAnd you should know I suffer the sameIf I lose youMy heart will be broken(Madonna,Frozen)





	

_He should have done better._ He is only too painfully aware of that, and while it was of some consolation when Sherlock claimed he did his best, he’s not entirely sure he deserves such recognition.

True, he did all he could, to the very best of his abilities; unfortunately, that never seemed to be good enough when either of his siblings were concerned.

Not that Mummy was ever any good at understanding her younger, much beloved offspring, let alone effectively dealing with them; as for himself, he knew from quite an early age that he didn’t count, not really – not when he was the dull, quiet one, always a disappointment regardless of how hard he tried to please his parents.

(In all fairness, Father had tried time and time again to reach out to his eldest son, but they had somehow drifted apart after the Redbeard incident and everything that followed.)

He was only twelve when he learnt his hardest lesson; that sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind, and do what has to be done no matter how many bridges you burn down in the process. Serve and protect, that is what he’s been doing ever since he can remember – his own family at first, then the entire country. And yet, it never seems to be enough, not when the demons beneath the road are always ready to rear their ugly heads.

It’s his text alert that snaps him out of his reverie, and he reluctantly retrieves the phone from his pocket.

 _Stop taking all the blame,_ it reads. _You know she didn’t mean it._

He lets out a soft sigh, his fingers instinctively pinching at the bridge of his nose.

_I very much suspect that she did, in fact, mean every word she said._

_Don’t be ridiculous. You know how she is._

_Yes. Yes, I do._

_I – am sorry, Mike._

_About what, precisely?_

_You know what._

_Are we done exchanging platitudes now?_

A cup of tea, that is precisely what he requires. And maybe a glass of Laphroaig, but that will have to wait until he gets back to his quarters.

(He never goes as far as to call it his home, for that would imply a level of belonging that he hasn’t truly felt ever since Musgrave.)

He’s about to fill the kettle when his phone pings one more time.

_Come over. We can have chips._

_I beg your pardon?_

_You know. French fries. I know a place._

Of all the absurdities, he thinks – then pauses, reconsidering. Chips sound good right now, and he was about to leave the office in an hour or so anyway.

_Give me half an hour._

_You’ll like the chips_ , that’s all he gets by way of a reply, and he can’t hold back the fond chuckle at his brother’s not-so-subtle attempt at reversing their roles.

Chips it is, then. He suspects it will be a welcome change from his usual, and he finds himself genuinely looking forward to it.


End file.
